


Flux

by carolinecrane



Series: Aftermath [6]
Category: The Brotherhood 2: Young Warlocks (2001)
Genre: M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus is having a hard time figuring out what Harlan wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flux

_You're a smart guy,_ Harlan said. _Think of something_ , as though Marcus was just supposed to come up with a plausible excuse for why he was leaving campus for a whole weekend. He hasn't left campus for more than a few hours at a stretch unless it's a major holiday, and when he does leave it's always with Matt. So he's not sure what he's supposed to tell his best friend about where he's going, and in the end he decides not to tell Matt anything at all.

He packs a bag with enough clothes to get him through the weekend, packs his toothbrush too and for once he's thankful that Matt's not his roommate so he doesn't have to answer any awkward questions. And he's not even sure Harlan wants him to spend the whole weekend – he never said how long he planned to let Marcus hang around, if this was just for the night or even just for a few hours.

But he wants Marcus around long enough to fuck him, and Marcus isn't really sure he cares what happens after that. He's spent the past two days half hard just thinking about it, remembering Harlan's mouth on him and his tongue pushing inside and wondering if Harlan's going to do that again before he fucks him. Or maybe he'll use his fingers this time, do some of that stuff Marcus has read about on the internet when he's sure nobody's around to catch him.

He's nervous – okay, terrified – and not just because he's pretty sure the first time is going to hurt. He's more scared that there won't be a second time, that he'll be bad at it and Harlan will drive him right back to campus and never look at him again. And this would be easier if they were friends, if he knew Harlan gave a damn about him. Because so far they've had sex three times, but they've never really had a conversation, and a weekend is a long time to spend alone together.

That thought makes him laugh, because he's waiting in the parking lot for Harlan to take him home and do things to him most guys would never even consider, and he's worried about what they're going to talk about after. It just goes to show that they don't belong together, that this whole fucked up situation doesn't make any sense. There's a part of him that wants to turn around and go right back to the dorm, lock himself in his room and unpack his bag before he does something he can't take back. But there's another part him that just wishes Harlan would hurry up already, and when he catches a glimpse of cherry red paint he lets out a relieved sigh and swings his backpack down off his shoulder.

When Harlan pulls up next to him he opens the door without hesitating, tossing his backpack in the back seat before he slides onto soft leather and shuts the door. He doesn't look over at Harlan until they pull out of the parking lot, doesn't say a word as Harlan navigates the little clusters of students leaving campus for home or the coffee house downtown. He doesn't know who saw him and he really doesn't care, because he's actually going through with this and that's all he can think about.

His stomach is a mess of nerves and he thinks he might actually be sweating – reaches up just in case to run a hand over his face, rolling his eyes at himself when his fingers press against cool skin. "How far is it?"

"Twenty minutes, give or take." Harlan glances over at him long enough to grin, gaze wandering down Marcus' frame and someday he's going to ask how Harlan manages to make him feel naked with just a look. "Why, you in a hurry?"

"Just drive," he answers, scowling when Harlan laughs and this isn't the way this is supposed to go. Not that he expected Harlan to be nervous – he knows better, knows this probably isn't the first time Harlan's done this. But Harlan knows this is Marcus' first time – he has to, at least if the way he whispered _relax_ over and over when they were in the woods is anything to go by. He knows Marcus is nervous, but Marcus is going through with it, and that means Harlan should really try not to be an asshole just this once.

He should have known better, should have known Harlan couldn't be a decent guy even after everything that's happened between them. There's a part of him that wants to tell Harlan to forget it, to turn around and take him back to campus and forget he ever heard Marcus' name. He's trying to decide how to say exactly that when a hand lands on his thigh, warm fingers squeezing and familiar and when he looks up Harlan's smiling. Just like that, and it's the smile Marcus never wants to believe, but somehow he relaxes anyway.

And he knows better than to think it means anything, at least anything more than Harlan knowing exactly how to calm him down before he starts to panic. It bothers him how well Harlan knows him, how easily he can guess exactly what Marcus is thinking and cut him off before he says it. Like Harlan's pulling his strings, kind of the way Luc did, only what Harlan wants from him is a lot easier to define than what Luc wanted.

His stomach twists at the thought, and suddenly he wishes they were there already so they could get this over with. The warm buzz of anticipation he's been riding all week gives way to anger, hard and bitter in the pit of his stomach and when Harlan slows down and pulls up in front of a huge house Marcus barely notices it. He's out of the car before Harlan even shuts off the engine, backpack forgotten and it's just as well because he's pretty sure he won't need it. Because he's not staying, he's not Harlan's friend and they're not here to hang out while Harlan's parents are out of town the way Alex and Randall probably used to do.

He's only here for one thing, and he'd change his mind and leave right now except that he made a promise and he's not going to let Harlan think he's backing down because he's scared. He doesn't even know where he's going, he's just moving blindly in the direction of the house and when a hand closes around his arm and pulls him backwards he doesn't try to fight it.

"What's your problem?"

The question makes him laugh, because if Harlan has to ask he's not sure what they're doing here in the first place. "What do you care? We're not here to talk, right?"

Confusion flickers in Harlan's eyes for a second, and suddenly Marcus isn't so sure why he's angry. Because it was Harlan who started all this, Harlan who dragged him behind a wall in front of half their class just a couple days ago. And okay, they probably though Harlan was kicking his ass back there, but the point is that Harlan wanted him enough to risk kissing him right out in the open and he's so not thinking about that. He hasn't let himself, not since it happened, because the second he starts reading too much into this thing between them it's all over.

That's what Harlan wants – he wants to get under Marcus' skin, make him _want_ so that Harlan can laugh when he drops Marcus. But his hand's on Marcus' shoulder, sliding up past his uniform jacket to curve around the back of Marcus' neck, and it's warm and sort of comforting in a way that Marcus is trying really hard to ignore. "Look, Ratner, would you just relax?"

Relax – sure, he can do that. Any second now he's going to stop obsessing about every touch, stop analyzing each kiss and wondering what exactly Harlan means by every smile. He's going to stop wondering where this is going and when Harlan's going to start making demands, when the free ride ends and he turns out to be just like Luc, to want something Marcus can't afford to give.

They're still standing in front of the house, probably a mile from the nearest neighbors but still out in the open, exposed and Marcus isn't sure what makes him surge forward and press their lips together. Maybe he's testing Harlan, seeing how far he'll go when anybody could see them, or maybe he just really, really wants Harlan to kiss him again. And he does, hand sliding into Marcus' hair and his teeth clicking against Marcus' when Marcus pushes forward too hard.

The hand in his hair tightens, pulling him back and then Harlan's looking at him, just sort of holding him there and…watching, like he's waiting for Marcus to disappear. A second, then two, and Marcus' fingers itch with the urge to reach out and take, to see how far he can push and how much he can get before Harlan decides he's had enough. Then Harlan's leaning in, taking control of the kiss this time, keeping it slow and soft and just chaste enough to make Marcus grip his jacket hard and try to pull him forward.

And he doesn't care if they never make it inside – doesn't care if Harlan fucks him up against the car, bent over the hood like some bad porn. He doesn't care about anything as long as Harlan keeps kissing him, and he's so caught up in trying to crawl inside Harlan that he doesn't even notice they're moving until they're inside the house. He's not sure when that happened, not sure how either but he's too busy trying to get Harlan's clothes off to care.

"Hey," Harlan says, hands coming up to cover Marcus' and that's a little weird, so Marcus stops struggling with his buttons and looks up. "Slow down. We've got all weekend."

Harlan smiles again – _that_ smile – and Marcus' stomach flutters. He doesn't want to believe any of the promises he sees in that smile, but he's been hard since he got in the car and he can't focus long enough to convince himself that trusting Harlan is a mistake. And at least he knows now that Harlan wants him here all weekend – that's something, anyway, so he lets himself be pushed toward the stairs and up, stopping every few feet to trade hard, desperate kisses and tug at layers of clothing.

When they reach the second floor he stops, knows if he looks back he'll see a line of clothes from the front door all the way up the stairs. But he doesn't look – doesn't even think about it, because Harlan's kissing him again, strong arms wrapped around his waist and half-pushing, half-carrying him down the hall toward a room he can only assume belongs to Harlan. He looks around long enough to register a bed and not much else, but this is the first time they've ever done it in a bed so that's all he really cares about.

Harlan's still guiding him, hands on his hips now and when they reach the edge of the bed he stops and tugs at the last piece of Marcus' clothing. He steps out of his underwear and lets Harlan push him back onto the mattress, heart beating in double time because he's _naked_ , hard and stretched out on Harlan's bed and he hasn't forgotten why Harlan brought him here. And he's seen Harlan naked before, but there's a big difference between the locker room at school and Harlan standing in front of him, grinning and stripping off his underwear before he climbs onto the mattress and kisses Marcus again.

They've kissed before, but it feels different this time, and Marcus tries hard not to think about how as Harlan settles between his legs and lines up their cocks. And that feels good – great, even, because he's spent a lot of time imagining Harlan's weight pressing him into the nearest flat surface, and this beats even his most elaborate fantasies. Harlan's kissing him slow, like they really do have all the time in the world, and right now it's easy to believe they do.

It's quiet in the house, their harsh breathing the only sound, and when Marcus lets out a needy little moan he knows Harlan hears it. He's thrusting up hard into the body holding him down, one leg hooked around Harlan's thigh and trying to drag him closer. And Harlan's still murmuring things like _relax_ and _slow down_ and a bunch of other stuff Marcus doesn't bother to listen to, because he's been thinking about this for what feels like forever and he wants…everything.

Wants it _now_ , and he thinks he might even say it out loud because Harlan's mouth leaves his neck and he opens his eyes to find the other boy watching him, expression a mixture of amusement and something else Marcus doesn't have a name for. "You sure?"

 _Yes, yeah, just hurry_ , he thinks, but he doesn't trust his voice so instead he just nods. And he's not even sure what he asked for, what he's agreeing to or how Harlan's going to use it against him later. The solid weight shifts off him for a second, Harlan's arm stretching up over him and Marcus turns his face into it, blindly pressing kisses to Harlan's bicep, the curve of his arm where his shoulder meets his neck.

Harlan smells like…well, Harlan; sweat and some expensive cologne and musk and that scent Marcus can't name but always makes him think of hot kisses and Harlan's cock pressing against him. His mouth's taken on a life of its own, licking and kissing every inch of Harlan he can reach, nuzzling against his neck and trailing along his jaw until Harlan turns into him and fits their mouths together.

He's leaning on one elbow, half on top of Marcus and kissing him slowly as his hand slides down the center of Marcus' chest. When he reaches Marcus' cock he strokes a few times, fingers slick with something Marcus doesn't recognize but as soon as he realizes what it is he tenses. But Harlan's still stroking him, slow enough to tease but not enough to get him off, and little by little he relaxes into the sensation.

When he's moaning against Harlan's mouth and arching up into each stroke Harlan lets go, fingers dipping lower to squeeze his balls and Marcus moans again at the almost-pain. His legs drop open automatically, breathing in sharply when Harlan's mouth presses against his neck to suck hard at the pale skin just below his ear. And he's going to have to grow his hair even longer if Harlan keeps that up, because he barely managed to hide the last mark Harlan left under his uniform collar, and this one's going to be higher.

He can't make himself care, though, not when Harlan's mouth is hot against his neck and his fingers are pressing hard against the taut skin just behind Marcus' balls. And that feels amazing, better than Marcus ever imagined it could, so he presses up into the sensation and just like that Harlan's fingers slip a little lower.

He remembers how Harlan's tongue felt working him open, remembers how much he wanted Harlan to push inside, so he forces himself to relax as Harlan's finger circles the entrance to his body. And it's not quite as good as Harlan's tongue, but it feels pretty good, warm and slick and Marcus pushes down experimentally, drawing just the tip inside. For a second they both freeze, then Harlan pulls away from his neck to look down at him. He waits for Marcus to relax again, waits even longer for his uneven nod before he pushes his finger further inside.

"You ever done this before?"

"No," Marcus manages, face bright red and it's not just the effort of forcing himself to relax.

"You're something, you know that?"

And it's obvious Harlan's never lived in a dorm before, because it's one thing for your roommate to catch you jerking off, but it's something else entirely to get caught finger fucking yourself. But Harlan's smiling that smile that makes Marcus forget that they're not friends – that they don't even like each other, not really. And they don't, but he's starting to think that doesn't really matter.

His finger's working in and out of Marcus, gaze locked on his face and he's focused so intently on Marcus that it's hard not to squirm under the attention. He doesn't, though – doesn't even close his eyes, because Harlan's watching him and Marcus thinks he might kind of like being watched. It feels a little weird to be lying on Harlan's bed, totally exposed while Harlan presses his finger a little further inside, but just when Marcus starts to feel self-conscious Harlan hits a spot inside him that sets off sparks behind his eyes.

He hears a moan and knows it's his own, hears Harlan's laugh echoing behind it and then a soft kiss pressed to the side of his neck as Harlan pulls his finger out. And that hardly seems fair, but before Marcus can complain Harlan's back again, skin slick with more lube and this time he presses two fingers inside.

The stretch this time feels like he's being split open, and he's not sure how he'll ever live through Harlan's cock pressing inside him, but when Harlan finds that spot again he forgets to care. The stretch settles into a tingling sort of pain-pleasure, and Harlan angles for the spot over and over until Marcus is whimpering and thrusting up with the effort to get more. Or maybe get away from the relentless pressure – he's not really sure, but then Harlan reaches for his hand and wraps Marcus' own fingers around his cock and…yeah, that's a thousand times better.

He strokes roughly, hard and fast and Harlan's still pressing inside him, fingers stretching him and teasing his prostate and before he knows it he's coming. Wet heat hits his stomach and fingers, chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath and he's never come that hard. He thinks he might even have broken something, because his limbs feel heavy and useless and he's positive he couldn't walk even if he wanted to.

Then Harlan's fingers are sliding out of him, leaving behind a slight burning and when Harlan crawls over him again Marcus wonders if he'll survive Harlan actually fucking him. He's pretty sure it doesn't matter, because he can't walk anyway and if he died right now he wouldn't really have any complaints. But Harlan doesn't press inside him – he settles between Marcus' legs again, cock sliding against the slickness on Marcus' stomach as Harlan kisses him, thrusting hard against him once, then again and before he knows it Harlan's coming.

He wants to ask why Harlan changed his mind, if he did something wrong or if this is what Harlan meant by 'we've got all weekend', but he thinks he might have lost his voice along with the rest of his motor skills. Besides, Harlan's still kissing him – hot, breathless kisses feathered against his mouth, along his jaw and down his neck, then back up to his mouth again. He doesn't even have the energy to kiss back, but he does anyway, tongue sliding along Harlan's bottom lip to slip inside and taste sweet and Harlan.

There are a dozen questions he wants to ask, like what else Harlan's got planned for this weekend. He wants to know what Harlan wants from him, what they're doing and maybe when he should expect it to end. He wants a cigarette, and he's pretty sure Harlan's not going to let him smoke in the house, so he could ask where he's supposed to smoke. But none of that seems as important as the soft mattress under him or the solid weight pressing him down, and maybe all his questions can wait until later.


End file.
